“We lose track of time and of place, we move into a timeless time and a placeless space when we are in a creative state. Afterward, we know we have tasted something worth remembering, something that will last. And often we have a special gift to bestow on others because of the journey we have undergone in our creative work.” —From the book “Creativity” by Matthew Fox.

Ten years ago—July 28, 2009—a fierce thunderstorm raged outside. The lightening was so intense, I decided to unplug all electronic devices and read a book. Unexpectedly, the image of a soldier dressed in combat fatigues flashed in my imagination as vividly as the lightning outside.

The familiar image caught my attention, so I stopped reading. His image moved forward in my awareness— instead of dissolving, which would have been his fate had I continued reading my book.

John’s eyes blinked and his chest lifted from a breath. He was standing in the emptiness of home, the outcome described in a chapter of “Resurgam.” I thought, “Why is John there?” This was not possible.

John died on July 7, 1968 in Vietnam. His death was one of the reasons why Phil Woodall had left a trail of writing. When I began writing about John’s death in Vietnam, I created two fictionalized characters, Jimmy and Sophy. They were a presence that intermingled facts and fiction, and bridged the gaps between Phil’s words:

Holton humped the boonies,
Tripped a booby trap.
Back came I to battle,
Toting Holton’s rum;
I cried when I discovered,
He was blown to Kingdom come.

In “Resurgam,” John’s broken body was placed in a body bag, lifted from the field and transported to Graves Registration at LZ Sally.

We want to show you something

John seemed to sense my confusion, and he replied, “I live because of you.” Then, two other soldiers from Alpha Company, Gary and Frank, stepped into my awareness. I expected Phil to appear and wondered if all of Alpha Company would return. But my writer’s eye could only “see” John, Gary, and Frank. They were illuminated on what seemed to be a dark stage. I wondered “Why only those three?” but didn’t let the unanswered question stop the expansion. Their animated presence expressed a mission as the storm thundered outside.
John said, “We want to show you something.”

I followed them. Within an hour, I had translated what I saw in my writer’s eye into words on a sketchpad. They took me to the Christmas Truce during World War I.

Why only those three soldiers? The answer arrives the next day

The next day I opened my mailbox and found a package. I hadn’t ordered anything so I wondered who sent it. I looked at the return address. It was from the original Company Commander of Alpha Company that left Fort Campbell, Kentucky in December 1967. The package included a 7-page handwritten letter, two books and other significant papers about Alpha Company’s history. I began reading the letter and his words delivered the answer to my question from the night before. “Why only those three?”
My eyes stared at the words creating a sentence in the letter:

The three were the platoon leaders of Alpha Company! A fact I knew but had forgotten.

Resisting the truth of war

The synchronicity in the arrival of the three platoon leaders and the letter from Alpha Company’s Commander illuminated a truth: I needed to face what I wanted to avoid.

When I completed and self-published “RESURGAM Standing on the Ground of Remembrance,” I had fulfilled my commitment to Phil Woodall and finished the story. I believed I was done writing about war and its aftermath. War had continued to surface but I kept trying to resist it by thinking “I finished the book!” I wanted to be done with war. I should have known better since Alpha Company taught me well. Coming home doesn’t mean the war is over. It’s only a different type of war. I needed to continue pay attention and listen to the continuing story of resurgam.

Standing in No Man’s Land during WWI on the day there was Peace

I can still hear my father’s feedback when he read a draft, “I don’t understand… Why would three platoon leaders from Vietnam guide Sophy to No Man’s Land during the WWI Christmas Truce?” I agreed it didn’t make logical sense in chronos time, but I knew the Christmas Truce story served a purpose. The three soldiers from Vietnam weren’t participating in WWI, they only directed my attention to a specific place and time – the middle ground on the day there was peace during World War I. A short excerpt from the actual story sums it up well:

“What are they?” Sophy asked.
“They’re Christmas trees on the German’s trench parapets,” said Frank.
Sophy countered, “Christmas trees in the middle of war?”
“If you dissolve the boundaries of where you are – forget the war – it’s a candlelight vigil on Christmas Eve,” said Frank. “Did you ever think you’d see this?”
“No, I’d never imagine this. I thought I was done with war when Jimmy took me home.”
“That’s why we’re here. To show you something you’d never imagine by yourself. Phil did his job and now it’s our turn.”
Sophy asked, “Where are we?”
Gary piped up, “Flanders Field on Christmas Eve in 1914. You’ve returned to the ground of remembrance.”

During the Christmas Truce, the WWI soldiers from both sides were able to enter No Man’s Land to retrieve their dead and bury them. There was a Christmas tree in No Man’s Land that night. The WWI soldiers gathered later in the evening and exchanged small tokens to prove they had met the enemy and lived.

A candle lit in the darkness of Flanders

On the same day I received the package, I remembered the book “Silent Night,” which I bought many years ago when researching World War I. I opened the book and noticed one underlined sentence:

“A candle lit in the darkness of Flanders, the truce flickered briefly and survives only in memoirs, letters, song, drama and story.”

There would be one more story due to three platoon leaders from Alpha Company.
It was the start of a new story that began with peace in the midst of war. At the time I wrote the draft in 2009, I had no idea how this particular story would help me navigate the next ten years.

A excerpt of a teaching tale from “The Art of Gathering” by Priya Parker illuminates the core message:

I met a stranger in the light whose light had ceased to shine.
I paused and let him light his lamp from mine.
A tempest sprang up later on and shook the world about.
When the storm was over, my lamp was out.
But back to me the stranger came his lamp was glowing fine.
He held to me his precious flame and thus rekindled mine.

“Peace be with you.” It has been the call from the World War I soldiers. They lived and have stories to tell us.